


December

by orphan_account



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-05
Updated: 2013-03-05
Packaged: 2017-12-04 09:24:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/709169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes Sirius hates snowflakes - they can be very persistent when they bury their little fingers in golden webs of Remus’ eyelashes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	December

**Author's Note:**

> Just a little idea I had - 12 months of puppy love, 1/12

Sirius loves December because December brings presents and new socks and muggle Christmas lights. December comes in echoes of laughter and happiness, in mistletoe, singing santa hats and raindeer antlers (which Lily finds hilarious, especially if they’re magically glued to James’ head). December means eggnog (which always includes Peter performing chicken dance and/or losing his shoes/pants/consciousness) and caroling (which usually includes bleeding ears and Sirius being hit with both sharp and blunt objects). It means christmas kisses and majestic euphony of ‘Padfoot’, “I love you’, ‘come closer’, ‘here’, ‘now.’

But most of all Sirius loves December because of the snowflakes. Not so much snowflakes you see (because that would be one very unmanly thing and Sirius is not at all unmanly!) but the way they touch Remus’ skin. Sirius has read somewhere that snowflakes are little, frozen, hexagonal miracles. Each one complex, unique and encapsulated in ice, December winds and pure perfection. A mother nature at her finest.

But even the very perfection melts, and disappears and loses the battle against the warm, silver skin; the pure life that is Remus. Oh, yes, sometimes Sirius hates snowflakes - they can be very persistent when they bury their little fingers in golden webs of Remus’ eyelashes, from where they stare at Sirius, their tongues sticking out mockingly. Then Remus blinks and snowflakes drown in those lakes of tarnished gold. And Sirius beams with joy, narrowing his eyes and thinking ‘Pfft serves you right.’ (but Sirius is not at all jealous and he is still very manly, let’s not forget that!)

Sometimes, though, Sirius thinks he is not so different than the snowflakes. He falls and he melts and he disappears under a single touch of Remus’ hand, and he gets tangled up, paralyzed, frozen every single time Remus looks at him. Sirius also knows that Remus’ hands are the only thing that keeps him from drowning in those eyes, eyes that have been the death of so many brave snowflakes out there. They just might be the death of him too one day.

And right now, Sirius is very aware that he looks like an utter girly, pathetic ball of patheticness as he threatens silently and glares at this particular snowflake that has just landed on Remus’ lips (that thieving bastard of a snowflake, trying to steal Sirius’ kiss like that!). But then Remus smiles and Sirius forgets everything about ten thousand and twenty one ways of how to kill a snowflake and he stops writing a thesis about damn snowflakes in his head and he surrenders to December, to kiss, to Remus. Always. Only. Forever.

And look, no more snowflake! It has packed its December bags and disappeared empty-handed, waving goodbye.


End file.
